Chapter 25 INGA #3
The bellboy didn't blink at my reaction. Maybe he was used to people like me, people who had gone without too long. He simply bowed his head. "If you need anything else, the front desk is available at all hours."
Gideon handed him some cigarettes, and the bellboy left. The door clicked shut behind him.
Silence settled like a blanket.
Only the faint noises of children in the other room could be heard. Hilde giggling, Axel saying, "Try this one!" and Klaus crunching into an apple, floated faintly through the suite.
I stood frozen in the bathroom doorway, unable to move. Gideon stepped behind me so quietly I didn't notice until his warm hand slid gently into mine.
"What do you think?" he asked softly.
My throat tightened. "I—I don't remember… anything like this. Not since before the war. Before… everything."
He squeezed my fingers. "I wanted you to feel safe," he murmured. "All of you."
My eyes blurred. "I don't even know how to… be in a place like this anymore," I whispered.
"You don't have to know," he said, turning me gently to face him. "You only have to rest."
His thumb brushed across the back of my hand, slow and reassuring. "And tonight," he added, voice low, "you finally can."
A tear slipped down my cheek before I could catch it. I wasn't crying over the bathtub. Or the beds. Or the carpets. Or the stupid fruits. I was crying because for the first time in years, I wasn't surviving.
I was being cared for.
I stepped forward, and my fingers brushed the tub, "My God," I whispered. "I haven't… not since before the war… not even a warm wash…"
The kids must have finished the fruits, because Hilde wandered in behind me and gasped so loudly she scared herself.
"You all go first," I said, choking on emotion.
Gideon placed a gentle hand on my back.
Klaus' eyes were huge. "But… the water?"
I knelt and kissed his forehead. "There's enough hot water for all of us. Running water. Hot water. All night."
Klaus blinked rapidly, overwhelmed. Axel hovered by the door, uncertain.
"Hilde first," I said, "she's the smallest."
Gideon helped them one by one, running warm water, adding soap bubbles, wrapping Hilde in a giant towel afterward like she was royalty, ever careful of her broken arm that was set in a cast. Axel's giggle echoed off the tiles; Klaus splashed so hard I thought we'd flood the place.
And the whole time, Gideon moved with a quiet tenderness that made my chest ache. Finally, the children were warm and clean and wrapped in blankets on the large bed in the other room, dozing under the soft glow of a table lamp.
It was my turn.
Gideon stood by the bathroom door, looking suddenly shy. "There's a lock; take all the time you need."
He stepped away to give me privacy. The moment the bathroom door clicked shut behind me, the world hushed.
For a long time, I simply stood there in the steam, staring at the porcelain tub as if it might vanish if I blinked.
Then I turned the brass faucet, watching in awe as steaming water poured out, steady, abundant, effortless.
Hot water.
My breath trembled.
I sank into the tub slowly, almost reverently, the heat wrapped around me like a blanket I hadn't been allowed to touch for years. It stung at first; my skin wasn't used to warmth, but then a soft moan escaped me as the ache in my bones loosened.
Warm. So warm.
The soap smelled faintly floral, rich and creamy. I lathered it over my arms and watched gray water swirl away from my skin, the kind of filth you didn't even notice anymore until it was gone.
For a few minutes, I didn't think at all.
I just felt.
Felt the water.
Felt the heat.
Felt the softness of the towel at my back.
Felt alive.
But gradually, like a tide creeping back to shore, my thoughts returned. The last forty-eight hours unraveled in my mind like a reel of film:
Gideon's voice—I love you.
His knee hitting the cobblestones.
The ring.
I lifted my hand out of the water and stared at it. The diamond caught the lamplight overhead and threw tiny stars across the tiled wall. It was so beautiful. So impossibly beautiful.
I turned my fingers, watching the sparkles dance.
"Is this really mine?" I whispered to myself.
The ring felt heavy and delicate all at once, like a promise I was terrified to hold. Then my chest tightened.
Klaus.
Axel's terrified face as he'd told me the Russians had dragged him away.
My father's letter.
Him standing in the villa doorway like a resurrected ghost. Alive! After all these years. Then the suffocating realization that he hadn't come back to us; he had become something else entirely. My Vati had died long ago in Russia.
My breath caught.
The water lapped gently at my collarbones. What had he called my mother's death? Bedauerliche Opfer—Regrettable casualties?
I clenched my jaw, heat prickling behind my eyes. How could the man who had tucked me into bed and taught me how to draw flowers say that? How could he sit in luxury while children starved in the street?
A shiver ran through me despite the warmth.
And then—
Gideon.
My heart softened.
Gideon, shifting in a burst of heat and light, scales shimmering like hammered gold. His eyes—those same gold-flecked eyes—looking at me from a dragon's face. I squeezed my eyes shut, letting the water lap over my shoulders. That should have terrified me. It should have made me scream.
Or question my sanity.
But instead…
I had known. The moment I saw him—saw it—I had recognized him. Not with logic. Not with reason. With something older, deeper, instinctive.
"Gideon," I whispered, the name trembling on my lips like a prayer.
I placed my hand over my heart, feeling its frantic rhythm. This was real.
All of it.
The ring glinting on my finger.
The warmth of the water.
The children sleeping in the next room.
The dragon who had crashed through a window to save me.
The man who had flown us over the ruined city like a guardian made of fire and wings.
I wasn't insane. I wasn't dreaming. This was real.
And if dragons existed—
If love like this could exist—
If a life beyond fear, beyond hunger, beyond rubble could exist—
Then maybe I could believe in something again. I leaned back, letting my head rest against the rim of the tub, tears trailing softly into the steam. Everything hurt. Everything healed. Everything was possible.
"I don't know how I got here," I whispered to myself, voice cracking. "But Gott, I'm glad I did."
The water held me gently, like an embrace. The ring flashed again.
And somewhere beyond the bathroom door, I heard Gideon's low voice soothing Klaus, and I knew: My world had changed.
Forever.